For the Nights I Can't Remember
by Miss-Rainy-Skies
Summary: "Austin, don't you dare tell me you rushed me out of school like that so we could come make out in your new car." A look into Austin and Ally's final year of high school.


A/N: Just needless interactions between Austin and Ally. The story is based off of Hedley's Old School and For the Nights I Can't Remember. I quite literally stole lyrics from the former and fit them in the story.

Caroline, this one is for you. This is for all those lost texts we'll never recover and all that sleep we ignored when we stayed up talking. You already know how much I love you. Happy anniversary.

Disclaimer: I don't own Austin and Ally, or Hedley and their lovely songs.

* * *

**For the Nights I Can't Remember**

* * *

"Please tell me you have a liable reason for rushing me out of school like that."

Ally Dawson currently sits in the passenger seat of her boyfriend's car, her chest rising and falling in an irregular fashion due to the totally unnecessary workout session she has just received. She brushes a strand of hair wet from sweat to rest behind her ear. The corner of her eye twitches lifelessly at the reminder that she had made getting in shape for her final year of high school to be a 'must achieve' goal. That still, however, does not justify a certain singer's actions.

There she was, having a polite conversation with one of her classmates by their lockers, when this flurry of blond and dark grey appeared out of nowhere like a sandstorm and whisked her away with a few offhanded apologies and insincere excuses.

Austin looks over her, also breathing heavily with his eyes wide and innocent while he leans in closer to her, an explanation at the ready. "I—"

"And don't—" she warns, inserting space between the two of them by holding out her palm in his direction. His gaze fixates on the obstacle, making him appear slightly cross-eyed. "Don't you dare tell me that you pulled me out of school and into the parking lot without even letting me stop by my own locker to get my books so we could come in your new car and make out."

A stale eyebrow raises high upon her complexion at his slight jaw drop. "Pftttt! What? No!" Leaning back in his driver's seat, he attempts nonchalance by fixing his collar all the while laughing nervously. He pops the grey material with his fingers a few times before looking at her again; badly suppressed guilt seemingly seeping through every inch of his skin.

The songwriter sighs loudly, crossing her arms as a clear sign of displeasure. He rolls his eyes. "Oh, like your conversation with Marla Steward was _so_ interesting."

Scoffing indignantly, she uncrosses her arms only to cross them again in anger. "We were having a discussion about our homework project!"

"You can text her later."

"She doesn't have a phone!"

Instead of apologizing, his sharp features contort in shock and disgust. "What kind of sick, high school student doesn't have a phone? Seriously Ally, I think I saved you from a very—"

"Austin!" she bellows in exasperation. Her index finger begins to rub some circular motions on her forehead, hoping to prevent a headache on her first day back at school.

"Fine!" he relents, "maybe I did kinda… sorta pull you out here to maybe make out a little, but I'm not used to not having you in my class last period!" Her features soften involuntarily at his words. "I just wanted some alone time with you, sue me," he finishes softly, looking so goddamn vulnerable she can't _not_ forgive him.

She sighs a little but the smile that spreads so shamelessly over her complexion doesn't go unnoticed by him. Leaning over, she reaches for his right hand and squeezes tightly. "Hey, I missed you too, but we're just gonna have to get used to this."

He squeezes back weakly and a short silence ensues before he promptly breaks it. "This senior year is gonna suck."

"No, it isn't," Ally assures in a motherly tone. Her hands that were previously resting in her lap and squeezing his hand made their way to cup his face, pulling him closer to her. "Senior year is going to be crazy, and hectic, and beautiful, and romantic." Following her gush, she kisses him lightly on the lips.

A massive grin replaces his previous pout. His hands find their way to cover hers, making sure their faces stay only centimeters apart.

"Are you agreeing to my daily afterschool make out idea?" he asks, touching his nose to hers and loving the way her laughter rings in the air.

His previous pout settles back when she pulls away, but manages to disappear completely along with her next words. "I might be warming up to it."

And his lips overtake hers soundly.

* * *

She stands a few steps away from the bleachers, shielding her eyes from the sun as she realizes the weatherman had been wrong about the rain. Looks like the big game can take place after all.

"I thought you decided to take Jimmy's advice about not taking sports."

"Jimmy can't stop me from creating a memorable senior year," the blond replies easily as he ties his sneakers with a foot resting on the bleacher. She notices how significantly longer one of the shoelaces is to the other. She would offer to retie his shoes for him, except they kind of smell.

"So you're going to keep it a secret from him?" She picks up the helmet resting at her feet and absentmindedly polishes the base of it with her sleeve.

He hops up from his hunched position and jogs the few steps over to her. "You know, technically Jimmy told me not to play basketball, he never said anything about football." He smiles smugly as he takes the helmet from her and jams it roughly onto his head.

She rolls her eyes, stepping forward to help him adjust the metal gear of the helmet. "That's not true, he told you to stay away from sports that could potentially cause you to be injured, and the last time I checked, football is pretty high up in the dangerous sports department."

Chuckling energetically, he brushes her off with a self-satisfied look. "Don't hide it, you know you like having the star quarterback as a boyfriend." He winks comically at her.

She puts a hand to her chest, her expression classically deadpan. "I love it. It fills me up with joy just thinking about you out there, running back and forth with sweaty men, fighting over some ball."

He blinks a few times and just when she thinks he is going to reconsider his decision in sports, he silences her rational reasoning abilities completely. "That sounded really dirty."

Before she can even express her disgust, he's laughing loudly and nudging her with his shoulder in an affectionate fashion. She smiles at his reaction, but worry is still etched deep within her pupils. "And if you're injured again?"

"I'm not worried, performing on strings can be _my thing_, ya know?"

"Does your thing also include not walking?" she teases, snickering a little at her own joke. He gives her the look and she raises her hands up in surrender. "Just be careful."

Getting up on her tippy toes, she leans up to kiss his cheek when she realizes his helmet is in the way. He seems to have noticed this too and immediately begins taking the protective equipment off. Struggling to pull it off his head, the gear finally separates from his skull with a giant tug while leaving an extreme case of bed-head.

He gingerly pecks her on the lips before cramming the wretched thing back onto his head. She watches the battle, somewhat of a skeptical look on her face. "I was not going to let a piece of equipment cock block me," he answers in explanation.

"Let's not risk a concussion before the game even begins." She pets him on the shoulder as he makes sure the helmet is on right. A bright smile overtakes her visage. "Are you ready to kick some butt?"

"Yes, ma'am!" he affirms, his voice boisterous. He takes off towards the field, simultaneously checking if his shoulder and knee pads were in place. "Watch me play, you have to be watching me!" he shouts as he nears his teammates. Even through all that protective gear and his stinky jersey, his charisma and boyish charm shines through. She shakes her head, thinking how it's that kind of unjustified optimism that is going to get him killed one day when his familiar voice snaps her out of her thoughts. "Hey! Are you up for dinner after the game?" he yells from down the field.

"Only if you're still standing!" she calls back.

* * *

Gingerly opening her locker, the air is all but sucked out of Ally's lungs as a swift masculine hand disagreed with her actions and abruptly closed the locker right in her face. A swift masculine hand that did not belong to her boyfriend.

Slowly coming out of her near comatose state, she turns around to find her gaze held by a pair of piercing blue eyes from a boy with jet black hair—hair that could use some trimming—and a smirk present upon his face.

She recognizes him as the new kid from her Physics class last block. He's dressed in a leather jacket and had been texting under the table when she first caught sight of him in the classroom. She had thought for certain their interactions would be limited to him trying to cheat off her every once in a while. Oh, how wrong she had been.

She's pretty sure she knows his name. She heard the teacher repeat it a total of three times after getting it wrong the first. It had been something kind of exotic like Rusemeir, or Rosemeyer, most likely the former.

"So I was wondering if you were up for showing me around the school. You know, since I'm new here and you're, well… hot." The edge of his smirk raises a little to give him the impression of a hungry wolf.

The brunette fidgets uncomfortably. At this point she'd rather be jammed into her locker along with all her books. Visibly shifting to show her unease, she's hoping to the heavens that he'll read her body language and back up a few inches to give her some space. His arm however, remains partially boxing her in. Why, oh, why did she not take up Trish's offer to walk her to her locker?

"Look, Rusemeir—" she looks up at him to see if she had pronounced his name correctly. When he remains a neutral expression, she concludes she must have succeeded and carries on, "I would actually love to be friends, but I already kind of have plans afterschool."

Her cheeks darken instinctively as activities of her and Austin's not-so-innocent typical afterschool behavior flashed in her mind.

Rusemeir on the other hand, poorly misconstrues the situation as her being allured by his compelling nature and bad boy physique. Feeling a surge of confidence wash over him, he moves to rest his other hand on her locker as well, effectively preventing escape from her right side now, too.

He leans in dangerously close to her, allowing her to take in the scent of breath spray and bubblegum eluding his mouth. From her view past his shoulder she can see freshmen girls squealing in excitement and some wrenching in jealousy. If only they could read the situation properly.

"Let's both stop playing hard to get. You're here and I'm here. I'm right in front of you and I'm real." Just when she thinks he's about finished with his mundane speech, he leans close to her ear and whispers quietly in what he expects to be seductive. "We can stop fighting it."

She shivers involuntarily in partial disgust and partial fright. How she manages to hold in her vomit is a mystery. The self-proclaimed bad boy's large smirk has taken over most of his face by now as he has now moved on to mistaking her horror as to her being turned on.

She shrinks smaller and smaller just as that terrifying smirk gets closer and closer. Then suddenly, Rusemeir's presence is no longer hovering over her, a loud exhale is released from his lips, and he's being pulled away.

"The only thing you should be fighting here is my fist!" She hears that ever so familiar voice yell with just a tad too much bravado. Yes, not the best line he's come up with before, but as he raises his fist to the suddenly shaking young lad, it proves just as effective as any other threat.

"Whoa, man—calm down!" Rusemeir screeches, succeeding in attracting an even larger crowd. His eyes are the size of saucers and she immediately feels bad for him. Perhaps, she should have tried harder to explain the situation to him. "I didn't know she had a boyfriend!"

The taller male lowers his fist, but his other hand remains holding the raven haired boy in place. His glare doesn't let up either. Rusemeir manages to free himself out of Austin's grasp and lifts both arms up in surrender. "No hard feelings, it's alright!" Stepping away from the scene, he turns to look at Ally who right away shrinks in caution. "Hey, I didn't know you had a boyfriend, that's totally cool. I'm sorry for hitting on you." Then he looks kind of sad with droopy eyes, slight grimace, loss of spark, basically the whole ordeal. "I'll see you in Physics," he mutters dejectedly.

Ally watches him go with almost a melancholic air before turning to face Austin whose glower has finally simmered to a non-combatant demeanor. He flicks his gaze to her as well and he seems to relax completely. "Hey," he offers pathetically.

She would have laughed at the scenario if not for Rusemeir poking his head back through the corner of the hallway. His previous sadness seems to have washed away and evaporated into the air to be replaced by irrational hope. "But you call me when you two break up, alright?" he calls cheerily, making a second departure as he ducks away.

Austin's face once again contorts in fury before settling into a more stoic, calm kind of angry. This is the kind that worries her the most. "I am going to kick his ass." He delivers the statement so tranquil and motionlessly that she almost doubts him.

But then he takes off down the hallway before she can even register her horror. "Austin, WAIT!" she cries dramatically, extending an arm to his already missing figure.

Her pleas fall upon deaf ears.

* * *

"Here." He tosses a tiny object her way as he walks up to her seat in her Calculus class.

She barely catches it even with both her hands, but the elation written all over her face when she does earns a chuckle from him as he stops right by her desk.

Holding up the small object, she examines it closely between her thumb and index finger. "What's this? A button?"

He smiles mischievously, tilting his head to the side and points down to the jacket he's wearing. Sure enough, the second button down is missing from his attire. She cautiously looks back and forth between the button in her hand and the boy.

"Do you… do you want me to sew it back on for you?" she asks in confusion.

He almost giggles. "No, I pulled it off."

Her eyebrows knit together in concentration. "Why would you do that?" She knew this jacket had been his favorite and it puzzles her that he would temporarily lose his mind and begin destroying things that he loved for no reason.

He crosses his hands on her desk, giving her the impression that they were having a serious talk, which is silly because all he did was throw her a tool used for fastening clothing. "It's the second button on my jacket." He gives her a look. "You do know what that means, right?"

It all clicks and her expression twists to an unamused poker-face. Upon one last inspection, she sets the button down on her desk. "Isn't it supposed to be from a school uniform?"

"Didn't have school uniforms, had to improvise with my favorite jacket. Don't you feel special?"

"Superiority over an article of clothing: noted."

He laughs, but continues. "Don't tell me you don't find the tradition of giving the girl the second button—the button closest to your heart—from your jacket cute."

She scrunches up her nose, completely unapologetic. "It's a little cliché."

He bends down at her words, looking her dead in the eyes. "Falling in love with your best friend is also kind of a huge cliché."

* * *

If the sun had been beaming on all the previous days of the practices she'd been obligated to watch, today the sun is just literally melting the surface of her face off. Okay, maybe it isn't so much literal as it is figurative, but it's still really dang hot.

Ally fans herself with a newspaper she conveniently picked off from a sidewalk next to a road not too long ago as she sits on the bleachers. Helping the environment out and solving her heat problems, what a wonderful Friday evening this is turning out to be.

"Ally dear, would you like some water?" Mimi Moon asks as she raises a light pink thermos to offer to the brunette. She smiles politely in decline.

"No thanks, I'm good."

"Wow, I never thought so many people would show up to watch some sweaty guys fight over a ball," Mike says, adjusting his cool, hip, facing backwards like-a-boss cap from beside his wife. Ally perks up at his comment.

"That's what I said!" she exclaims brightly, "but this is a really huge game, so school spirit is totally cool!"

Just then, Austin runs up to them bouncing up and down with excitement. He quickly throws on his jersey. "Hey guys!" He's almost as spirited as he is right before a performance and it makes her smile at the many interests and talents the boy has.

"Are you all pumped for your game?" Mimi asks with smiles and joyous buzz.

"Yeah! Coach gave me some really good tips on how to improve my game. We are totally going to crush the other team!" Following his sentiment, Dez back flips over to the group in his cheerleading uniform—promptly hands Austin his helmet—and back flips away again. "Thanks, man!" Austin grins, but then frowns when he notices a forgotten appliance on the ground. "You dropped your cheerleading cone!" he adds calling after him.

The red-head shouts something indistinguishable back at him and he shrugs it off to focus on the awful task of cramming on his helmet that is bestowed upon him once again. With a few grunts and almost a growl, he manages to squeeze the contraption on.

"They should really get you a better fitting helmet for your massive head," his father comments dryly.

He glares with a dull squint. "And you should take that awful pastry of a cap off your head."

"Touché."

Ending the argument, Austin turns his attention to Ally, regaining his lively attitude. "You're gonna stay the whole game, right?" She laughs softly, setting the newspaper she'd been holding down beside her.

"Yes, I'm staying the whole game."

Almost as if he doesn't entirely take her word for it, he faces his mother. "Make sure she's watching me play," he whispers. And she rolls her eyes at his need to appear so macho and assert his masculinity almost all the time.

He waves at them, then he's running off to the field like the sandstorm he was the first day back when he stole her away. In a way, she feels blessed she gets to witness him in all these moments of his high. And one particularly low moment when he chased a certain blue eyed boy into the school parking lot, having been heard yelling obscenities like, "Don't ever come back here again!" or, "I'll pound you so hard, your face is going to concave!"

His father picks up the cone Dez had dropped and puts it to good use. "If you don't score a single goal tonight, we will disown you as our son!"

Mimi can only palm her face, wondering why no one understands how difficult it is to live with two large-headed males.

* * *

"How does it feel to win the big game?" Ally asks softly, leaning her head against Austin's shoulder as they sit on the frontier of his car.

He raises an eyebrow, surveying her from the corner of his eye. "Were you not there when I lifted you up into the air while spinning and loudly declared how happy I was?"

She laughs into the still of the night and he loves how pure and unsaturated it sounds when he doesn't have to sift it through all the other noises happening and he can't hear anything else but her. "I also distinctly remember yelling at you to set me down, because of how grossly dirty and sweaty you were."

"Are you kidding? Did you see how jealous all the cheerleaders looked? Especially Dez!"

She shakes her head, stifling the giggles.

He sighs soundly in content, happy with the comfort of her presence. He leans his head backwards to survey the few stars visible from a city view. "You were right, senior year is totally awesome." His fingers pick up a strand of her hair and begin playing with it.

"I'm always right." She grins when she feels him peck her cheek in confirmation.

He tucks the hair he'd been playing with back behind her ear and boops her nose. "It is so awesome, that I don't want it to ever end." His tone is joking but she can sense a certain unease in his voice.

She lifts her head off his shoulder and scoots so her body is closer to him. "Hey now, we've got so many more clichés to experience! Our final year is only half over. We have our graduation trip, we have prom—you're probably going to conspire some totally unnecessary, huge, and unwarranted way to ask me to prom." He grins at how well she knows him. "You've got more football games where I sit on the bleachers biting my nail to a nub watching you. We've got a huge school decathlon coming up! And then we have nights like these to enjoy that will fade into some blurry, beautiful memory that we can't recall."

He frowns a little, sitting up straighter, his gaze accentuating to the hood of his car now. "I know that it is super duper cheesy of me to say, but things are just going by so fast." She follows his example, also sitting up straight to watch his expression furrow. "Pretty soon they'll be no more Friday afterschool pizza days with Trish and Dez, no more crowded cafeteria lunches where we're practically yelling across the table to hear each other, no more having you come over to tutor me before doing… other things," he gives her a special, suggestive look reserved specifically for her and she blushes modestly, extending her hand to intertwine their fingers during the end to his little rant, "no more smiling into a pillow after you leave, because I'm just _so_ damn happy."

With the hand not holding his, she tilts his chin up so he's looking at her. His dark brown eyes are glassy and distracted as she begins to speak. "But it's not over yet. We have tons left to explore in life, and it's not like talking under the stars and taking drives up to mountains to contemplate life is restricted to teenagers."

"Yes, but will we still be filled with that wonderful teenage angst and self-doubt that young adult writers like to manipulate into award winning novels?" he asks with an almost sarcastic hilt to his voice.

She smiles up at him, happy at the reappearance of his old attitude and he grins back, having dropped some of the negative thoughts swirling in his mind. Swinging their hands back and forth he says, "The only thing I'm glad of is that after we graduate, you won't have to go to Physics with dirty old Rusemeir ever again."

Ally gives a cute chortle. "Why? You sure taught him a lesson, Mr. The-only-thing-you'll-be-fighting-here-is-my-fist. "

"Shut up," he deadpans. "I was so angry; I'm surprised I was even able to say anything."

She laughs loudly, wrapping her arms around his neck as if to soothe him. She places a ghost of a kiss to his lips and he gingerly pulls her back down, his eyes snapping shut in the process. Before he's rationalized what he's doing, he has her pressed to the hood of his car.

Then his hands are tangling in her hair, he's nibbling on her bottom lip like a carnivore, their breaths are mingling together in a way that it makes him truly believe that all is right with the world; and he's wondering how on earth future him could find it in himself to forget a moment like this.

They pull away to gasp for air and he trails small kisses down her neck, as he is still conveniently hovering over her on his car and she halts his movements to rest his forehead against hers. She holds his gaze firmly, her whisper drawing him in even closer.

"To think; one of these days we'll look back on these dreams we conspired, these nights, wild and hazy, and wonder… man how in the hell did we get here?"

His pupils dilate, widening just the slightest and he's astounded all over again at the girl underneath from him. The way she delivered the realization, so slow and serious with her eyes ablaze with tenderness was enough to dissipate all doubt previously left in his mind.

Inhaling deeply, he goes to rest his weight on his elbow and shamelessly admires the pale moonlight bouncing off her soft features.

"Well, I would be lying if I said I never imagined having you pressed up against a car." She swats his arm lightly at the crass comment and he chuckles. "But I guess it doesn't matter how we got here, it just matter that we got here together," he turns to survey her, his expression honest and almost a little anxious to her response, "right?"

She nods. "Right," she affirms in a quiet murmur.

Their verification is quick; then his wonderful weight is mounting over her again, and she can feel and taste him kissing both their concerns into sweet nothings depleting into the night. He's mumbling into hidden crevices of her skin. She can just make out her name a few times in-between his whispers and the moment is so utterly perfect it causes something deep within her to ache. Her fingers rake over his hair and he grunts a little into her mouth, causing whatever it is she's feeling to gain even more force.

But she doesn't care anymore, she locks whatever emotion that's surfacing into distant dark places in the back of her mind and grips the material of his dark blue hoodie even tighter.

Since they got here together, it only makes sense for them to see where it takes them next.


End file.
